


Royale

by rad



Series: Destiny Arcs: Interlude - Regal Intrigue [1]
Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rad/pseuds/rad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Royale: (roy-al): of royalty, pertaining to royalty, the performance and or duty of a royal person or persons. Grava Efud Aston, Royale, the Crown Prince of Asturia. A man studying to become the next great King of Asturia; a man focused on his duties. At least, until he met the lovely Lady Therese.</p><p>Rating: Second chapter has a scene of very minor adult situation; NOT explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Royale – Part I

Grava Efud Aston, Crown Prince of Asturia, strolled down the hall of the castle. The King’s seventieth birthday was next month and he had managed to escape from the tailor’s claws and pins early. Grava wound his way through the palace, headed for Meiden’s office within the Merchants’ Quarters. Meiden would join him in his excitement to have an extra hour to spend in the city.

They went to a different tavern each time they went out. Rotating taverns meant they could hide their identities more easily. Grava of course had a Caeli Knight nearby, dressed in commoner’s clothing. But this route allowed both young men to have a merry good time without anyone noticing that the Crown Prince was in their midst.

Their evenings in the taverns allowed both men a chance to relax and to shake off the burdens of their duties. Grava could pretend he was a normal man out for dinner and a drink or two with a friend. He was no longer Asturia’s Crown Prince, attending lessons left and right, with an ailing King father pressuring him to find a wife. Grava shook his head and pushed those thoughts away as he continued down the staircase.

No, tonight they would dine, drink, and watch the fairer sex.

Grava and Meiden employed the technique of look but don’t touch when it came to women. Both had their reputation to think about and both men did. They kept their wits about them. But looking and a little conversation was safe. And fun.

The other young men that Grava and Meiden often dined with teased them endlessly about this policy. Of course, Grava had insisted his true identity remain hidden. Had they known they were laughing at their future King; well, there went the camaraderie.

Besides, neither Grava nor Meiden were particularly interested in women. Their fathers were. But both men had their duties vying for their time and attention. Meiden enjoyed his merchant responsibilities more than life itself. While Grava did not vehemently wish to be a commoner, great Jeture had given him the Crown and Grava was going to do his damned best to be a great king.

They could have some fun on the side though. Nothing wrong with that; it was good for them! No one wanted to deal with a grumpy Crown Prince, Grava most of all.

That night during dinner, he saw the loveliest woman in his entire life. His forkful of food was half-way to his mouth when she entered the tavern. It hovered in the air, forgotten, as he watched this goddess float across the room to a table. Her sun-kissed golden hair cascaded in ringlets down her back. Lovely violet-blue eyes were set in an ivory face above a button nose and full lips. The pale blue dress with pink accents did not do justice to her beauty.

“Hey Erroll, you can forget her!”

Grava started back to reality at Jankin’s referring to him as the tragic male love interest in a popular play. He put his fork to his mouth to continue eating as he turned to his friend. Those at the table laughed as Grava discovered he had dropped the morsel; luckily it had fallen onto his plate. “Who is she?”

“Well Fenton, that lovely dream is Therese Koit. Her father is Thoms Koit, the greatest horsemaster in Palas, second only to the Royal Horsemaster. You’ve never heard of her?”

‘Fenton,’ Grava’s cover-name among his dining friends, shook his head.

The table laughed again; Meiden joining in only to keep from showing his own lack of knowledge.

“Many fine young men have tried to court her,” Deirs continued the explanation. “Nearly all of us gathered here –” there were five total, not including Meiden and Grava himself, “– have tried.”

“Rumor has it she’d make a fine wife,” Gilles spoke up. “Therese is said to have a singing voice blessed by Jichia herself. She also has the talent and skill for dancing, table etiquette, and décor to rival the favored Gwenned de Aurthur.”

The table nodded in agreement.

“Not to mention she is a gorgeous sight to behold.”

The entire table agreed with that statement.

~*~

“Three weeks Meiden!” Grava slammed a fist onto his friend’s desk. “It’s been three damn weeks and I can’t get her out of my head!” The Crown Prince slumped into a chair.

Meiden folded his hands on his desk in front of him and tried to hide a smirk. “Sounds like you’ve a fascination with this woman.”

“Smirk all you want; I can’t do anything without thinking of her. She’s in my mind when I eat, during my lessons, distracting me while I’m practicing the _Denira _… I even dream about her sometimes.” Grava’s dreams had never crossed any inappropriate line, though he did have to change his sheets once or twice. He was male after all. Meiden didn’t need to know that though.__

 _The Merchant chuckled. “Well Grava, you are the Crown Prince. Get in your royal carriage, break down the door, and make her father allow you to court her.”_

 _Grava sighed and shook his head. “She’s not a lower price to be bargained for, Meiden. She’s a human being. She’s a woman.”_

 _Meiden shrugged. “I gave you my advice, what more do you want?”_

 _“To be there when _you_ are afflicted with this delirium!”_

Both men laughed.

“Ah Grava, you know that my only love is numbers and stacks of gold coins.”

Over the next two weeks, Grava rolled Meiden’s advice around his mind. He was the Crown Prince. But he didn’t want to just bang down the Koits’ door and demand she court him. That was barbaric; almost as bad as their far away ancestors capturing women to bear children.

He wished his lessons had included a course on talking to the fairer sex. Of all the kingly things he had to learn, courting a woman was not one of them. But it _should_ be. Talking to her would be a good place to start.

“Start what?” he asked his empty chambers. “Grave Efud Aston, you’re infatuated.”

“Well, nothing entirely wrong with that. It’s what I do with this damned emotion that matters. So what am I going to do?”

“Well, finding out about this Therese Koit and her family would be the best place to begin. If she has some blemish in her family line then I can just kick this thing to the sea.”

“Stop talking to myself would be a good thing to do as well… heh.”

Despite the late hour of the evening, Grava left his bed, donned a robe, and traversed the silent halls to the Great Library. He wandered the rows of books, getting his bearings until he remembered where the Book of Citizenry Births was located. Now all he had to do was find the exit again.

It took Grava nearly half an hour to find the Koit Family’s entry. Well, there went that idea. Not a single speck tarnished any part of the Koit Family tree. They were an old family, and wealthy. The males followed the family tradition of horsemastery. Some had gone into business for the feeds and materials needed for the animal.

Grava searched until he found Therese’s birth entry. Her parents were Thoms Koit and Amide nee Naramiss. She had been born on Pink 24th, the first and only daughter; she had four elder brothers. She was nearly nine years his junior, making her just over sixteen. That explained her father’s protectiveness.

The Crown Prince slammed the book shut and stomped through the library. He had come here to dispel her from his thoughts, not shine a beacon on her! He went back to bed, attempting to keep the beauty from his thoughts.

If he was to endeavor to court her, Grava wanted to proceed without the pressure of future queenship. Her father might be impressed or inflamed at his title, but how would Therese herself feel? Perhaps he could befriend her in some safe capacity? That way her father’s wrath wouldn’t be aroused and he wouldn’t have to tell her his title directly. He could get to know Therese.

But how?

Grava rolled over in his plush bed. That was a problem to solve tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’ came and went. So did a second and third day. Grava spent another week deliberating over his problem. Meiden was still of no help.

“I still suggest you force Koit’s hand. You’re the Crown Prince for Jeture’s sake!”

The Crown Prince refused. He decided that the next day he would at least do _something_ considered active. He was the Asturian Crown Prince after all. Stubbornness ran in the Asturian line.

Grava’s ‘do something’ turned out to be ‘have a servant tail her discreetly.’ Harkin had been his personal attendant for many years and could be trusted. Grava was sure that the elder man himself didn’t follow Therese, but he knew the man wouldn’t fail him.

Harkin gave a full, detailed report of Therese’s habits to Grava one month later. The Crown Prince had grown anxious, but as Harkin had explained, such things took time. Grava understood, but he didn’t have to like it. His infatuation hadn’t let up, either. It had been almost eleven weeks since he had laid eyes upon the beauty and the vision of her had never left him.

He had never before in his life paid such intense attention to a report or lesson. Nothing else existed outside his private chambers. The gods could send the same Destruction of Atlantis to Palas and Grava would never know. There was only he and Harkin and the report of Therese Koit.

“Therese Klarita Koit, sixteen years and three months of age. Parents are Thoms and Amide nee Naramiss. She has four elder brothers. Therese enjoys attending the theater and is the youngest, and only female, citizen to have a seasonal account with the Theater Guild. Therese attends _Candella’s Lounge for Young Ladies_ at least three times a week, many times singing or playing the harp. She peruses _Lady Perllis’ Exquisite Gems and Jewelry_ and _Madame Mascen’s Dresses for Every Social Event_ on a weekly basis and visits the bazaar a few times a month. Much to her father’s chagrin, twice a month she sits in on a meeting of the Philosopher’s Guild; the particular meetings are usually led by Lord Quo Farqu. Therese has many female companions of noble status; the closest and most consistent is the Lady Chelsea Qual, daughter of Lord Omash Qual and Lady Vanessa nee Koantz. Lady Chelsea is being courted by Sir Delma Amia of Trellyx, song of Elyas Amia, Captain of the Guard, and Lady Eissa nee Avanel.”

“Excellent Harkin! I shall write a note for you to take to Master Jacasin so you may retrieve whatever funds you deem appropriate as gratitude for your associates. Now, teach me to speak with the fairer sex without making a fool of myself and I’ll hand over half the Royal Treasury.”

Both men laughed.

Harkin was not married, but he was older and wise. He was friends with most of palace’s population on some level and he had a wide network of acquaintances. The elder man did his best to educate Grava in the ways of women. Most consisted of what _not_ to do or say.

With a bit of guidance from Harkin, Grava formed a plan to introduce himself to Therese. He cleared his schedule on the next week that she typically visited the bazaar. Grava dressed in high noble’s clothes; a step down from royalty but several steps up from the clothes he wore to the taverns with Meiden and their companions. He wished to leave his personal Caeli guard behind, despite the cover of the swordsman’s servant’s clothes; but for the sake of his Safety, Grave kept the man with him.

Grava meandered through the bazaar, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face and the smell of sea air. His eyes searched the many stalls, ignoring the shining wares and yelling sellers, seeking the most beautiful jewel of a woman. Eventually, finally, his eyes alighted upon her.

Subtly he pointed her out to the Caeli. “She is a lovely vision, my liege. I wish you Jichia’s blessing.”

The Crown Prince took a deep breath and walked toward the jewelry stall Therese and Chelsea (that had to be the second woman) were fawning over. The gentleman with them ought to be Delma Amia. Approaching the stall, Grava refreshed the image of Therese in his mind and finally receive a closer look at her. His heartbeat quickened as if a thousand horses were running across his chest. His throat tightened and went dry as he watched her daintily handle the jewelry.

Delma and Chelsea were occupied with each other as Grava neared the stall, unable to take his eyes from the goddess. He stood next to them for most of a minute before he mustered the courage to speak. “Excuse my interruption, Lady, but I saw you from across the way and the desire to gain a closer look, and mayhap a name, overwhelmed me. My feet carried me here of their own accord and now before you I stand, a humble man in awe of your presence,” he spoke quietly. There was no charm, no sarcasm, no desire. Grave simply allowed his heart and soul to speak for him. It sounded overly tender to his ears…

Therese turned, a polite smile on her face. It changed to one of shyness as she took in his awkward demeanor. She inclined her head and partially curtsied. “My name is Therese, daughter of Lord Thoms and Lady Amide of the House of Koit.”

Grava nodded, captivated by her heavenly voice.

“And you are, lord?”

 _‘Answer her, lovesick fool’!_ “Efud. Efud of the House of Wilton. My father is Lord Naegel Wilton, a scribe in the palace, and my mother is the Lady Reece nee Tallah, a seamstress also in the palace,” Grava puttered through his cover story.

“Efud?” Therese repeated.

He trembled at the way his name, even his middle name, rolled from her tongue and fell from her lips. He almost missed her next question.

“The same as the Crown Prince?”

“The very same,” Grava tried to put a little emphasis in his reply, but not too much.

“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Efud Wilton.” Therese curtsied again and extended her hand.

“Nay, fair Lady Therese Koit.” Grava bowed. “The pleasure is all mine.” He took her hand and placed a light kiss upon it.

Therese smiled.

Grava’s focus was broken as Chelsea and Delma joined the conversation.

“Chelsea, Delma, please allow me to introduce to you Lord Efud Wilton,” Therese began. “Lord Efud, this is my friend Chelsea Eissa and her (courtier), Delma Amia of Trellyx.”

Chelsea curtsied. Grava kissed her hand and shook hands with Delma. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” He forced himself to not stutter. Harkin had informed him that he must make a good impression on Chelsea and her courtier Delma.

The other young woman smiled. “What a gentleman! We are pleased to make your acquaintance as well!” Delma nodded; apparently he was content to allow Chelsea to speak for him.

With the initial introduction over, Grava felt his nervousness slip away and he began to feel more comfortable with Therese nearby. Chelsea and Delma seemed to have accepted him well enough; Chelsea pulled Delma away to twitter over a jewel. No doubt the women, and Delma when he visited, had a plan to discourage or even drive away would-be (courtiers).

“Lord Efud, we were about to dine at _Marlay’s Dragonhead_ for the midday meal. Would you… would you care to join us?”

Grava had expected Therese to wave him off, no offer an invitation to lunch. He did notice Chelsea’s questioning look. _‘The chance to continue speaking with her! But… what on Jeture’s name shall I say?’_ “If you wish for me to join you, I will, lady.”

Therese blushed. Grava enjoyed being is cause. “I think I would enjoy your company very much, Lord Efud.”

 _‘Not “we,” “I” would enjoy…’_ “Then as the lady wishes.” He bowed and ushered her after him.

The four of them talked all through lunch. Grava was careful not to give his full attention to Therese but to include Chelsea and Delma in the conversation as well. All three seemed surprised by this, impressed as well. While not well-versed in any affair not of the palace, Grava managed to have an opinion on whatever topic arose.

They finished lunch and walked back to the bazaar. Not wanting to overstay his warm welcome, Grava was about to politely say farewell when Therese courteously asked him to wander the bazaar with them. This time, Chelsea gave Therese no questioning look. Grava accepted, thanking Jichia for her overflowing of blessings. This time, they paired off. Chelsea seemed to understand Therese’s decision and unspoken request ( _‘Women…’_ ); not three minutes later, she spotted some pretty trinket and pulled Delma with her to investigate and away they went.

Grava followed Therese from stall to stall, the two of them conversing, the Prince hanging on every word she spoke in her lovely voice. Whatever question one asked, the other answered and then turned it back upon the askee. Grava learned that Therese enjoyed reading immensely and had read a wide range of literature. He told her the little-known fact that he loved chess but was a terrible player. He found he didn’t mind when she laughed merrily at this. Grava could listen to her voice and laugh for days on end and never tire of it. He tried to keep her talking and took every opportunity to make her laugh.

The belltower chimed to fourth hour, all too soon. They had lost track of time and Therese’s companions long ago. Therese politely excused herself, a touch of sadness in her voice.

“May I see you tomorrow, Lady?”

Her face lit up, brighter than the noonday sun reflecting off Palas’ bay waters. “I would like that very much.”

“As the Lady wishes.”

They met the next day in the theater district. Two plays later, Grava suggested dinner at _Cordiella’s_. Therese readily agreed. The owner recognized Grava but said nothing; he only made sure that a waitress gave them a private booth and that they weren’t interrupted.

After placing their orders, Therese spoke. “Efud, I have a confession to make…”

Grava waited, his face neutral. “Go on,” he said politely. He almost died inside.

“I – I greatly enjoyed our time together yesterday, today, as well. But… my father… will not allow me to court until my seventeenth year. We cannot see each other with any consistency until then.”

Grava rolled her words around in his mind. _She enjoyed being with him, but wasn’t allowed._ Yet. Therese _wanted_ to continue to see him, but she couldn’t. Correct? “Therese, I have something you must know as well. Yesterday was not the first time I saw you. I laid eyes upon you a little over two months ago. I was out with friends and I saw you in a restaurant. My comrades told me who you were, that your father wished to keep you from courting.

“I fell in love with you, I suppose. From that day on, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I thought about you during every waking hour. For two months, I could think only of you.

“Therese, I… I am going to be completely truthful with you.” Grava glanced around them before pulling the chain bearing his signet ring from its hiding place beneath his shirt. Therese’s eyes grew wide and she let out a little gasp of surprise. Grava took a deep breath and continued. “I am Grava Efud Aston, Crown Prince. But I come before you not as the Crown Prince and Future King, but as a man. A man who would die if he did not see you, breathe you, almost every day.

“Therese, I would like to ask your father permission t court you. Not for Asturia’s future queen, but for a man madly in love with you.”

Tears… tears of joy glistened in Therese’s lovely violet eyes. Smiling, she nodded. “I think Father would find it in his heart to make an exception for such a worthy man.”

“You think I should approach him?”

She nodded.

It was Grava’s turn to smile. “As my Lady wishes.” There was a long pause before Grava spoke again. “Therese, you are not angry that I did not tell you my identity?”

Therese took her time in responding. “I think… I think I knew. I didn’t _know_ know, but… I don’t know how to describe it. I believe it was in the way you introduced yourself. Which I believe was intentional.”

“That is correct, Lady. I… I have your forgiveness then?”

Therese smiled her goddess smile and Grava knew that he was. “You are Asturia’s Crown Prince and were only guarding your station as such; it is understandable and yes, forgiven.”

Grava informed Harkin of this development later that evening. Over breakfast the next morning, he informed his father of his pursuit. King Seith Galashin Aston gave his blessing and hoped for Jichia’s as well. Over the next few days Grava attended to matters he had neglected over the past several days in a rush, still managing to find time to plan and prepare to meet with Thoms Koit.

After dinner four days after speaking with Therese, Grava took a plain carriage to the Koit manner. His Caeli guard, for once in uniform, was his only accompaniment. There was no fanfare, no announcement in the streets. When a servant answered the door and asked who was calling, Grava simply answered ‘Efud.’ He had worn his noble’s robes, the only clue to his royal heritage his signet ring worn plainly on his right hand. He was brought to the parlor to wait; his Caeli instructed to wait at the front door. The Crown Prince sat in a chair and attempted to restrain himself from twisting the ring about his finger in anticipation.

When Thoms Koit entered, Grava stood and knelt to one knee. “Master Thoms, I am Grava Efud Aston. I kneel before you this day as a humble man deeply in love with your daughter, Therese. I understand your desire to keep your daughter close to your heart and home, but I beg of you sir, spare me months of a broken heart and allow me to court her.”

Thoms blinked and his eyebrows rose until they were nearly lost in his receding hair line. “Aston? Grava Aston, the Crown Prince?”

Grava nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell the servant? Please rise Sire; you should not be bowing to me.”

With a shake of his head, Grava remained kneeling and explained. “Sir, I did not wish to bring guards, break down the door, and force you; all because I am the Crown Prince. I came to ask permission, as a man in love; not force your hand as your ruler.”

Stunned, Thoms sat. “Many an arrogant man has come to me, lusting after my daughter. None have treated me or my wish with the respect you have shown me. They desire her beauty and body, but I hear in your voice that you desire her heart and happiness. Rise, Sire, for you have proven yourself a worthy man. I am honored to call you a Prince, and someday King.”

Smiling, Grava stood. Thoms also stood and he bowed deeply and they shook hands. Thoms offered to send for Therese to tell her the news but Grava declined. He desired to, of course, but he wished and needed to converse with Thoms a bit longer.

The men talked at length for nearly an hour before Therese was called for. She was shocked at Grava’s swiftness in speaking with her father. Thoms’ heart swelled at the joy on his daughter’s face when he announced the news. She hugged her father, flashed Grava the most radiant smile, and ran to tell her mother.

“You have made my daughter very happy, Prince Grava. In turn, her mother and I are happy.”

“Please, call me Grava.”

Thoms nodded.

Later that evening, Grava informed his own father of the meeting’s results.

“And you are sure she would make a good queen?”

“Yes Father. She was taught and has learned well all of her etiquette. She is polite and refined. Therese is also a lovely vision to behold.”

“Splendid. I look forward to meeting her, and announcing your engagement when the time is right.”

Grava was grateful his facial hair hid his blush. “Yes Father.”

The situation did not go as smoothly with Meiden. The merchant relentlessly teased his friend. Grava was more annoyed at Meiden’s childish antics than embarrassed or angry. “Just you wait Meiden Fassa, your time will come.” Meiden simply laughed.

Being Grava’s best friend, Meiden was obligated to actually meet the girl. Four days later, the dinner out on the town went smoothly enough. Meiden attempted to control the conversation, asking Therese about her father’s business and politics. Therese answered well enough on her own, but Grava felt the need to protect her.

After dropping Therese off at her home, Grava turned to his friend “You didn’t need to be so rude to the woman, Meiden. Practically ignoring her as an individual an only being interested in her father’s horsemastery and topics that only suit your interests,” he rebuked.

Meiden chuckled. “I’ll forgive you for jumping to conclusions, old friend. I was simply making sure that she wasn’t a fishscale. She held her own and knew a fair amount about her father’s business and general politics. You’ll want that if she’s to be Asturia’s Queen. She’s a woman that can hold her own against a formidable ‘opponent’ as I and she’ll do well during a ball when a foreign dignitary speaks to her.”

Grava blinked. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“Of course not. You’re too blinded by your silly emotions to think properly.”

The Crown Prince nodded. “And I do believe in my pursuit of Therese I have been neglecting our friendship. I apologize for that, old friend. Shall we go out to the city tomorrow night, just the two of us?”

“I accept your apology and extend my forgiveness. I also accept your invitation. Brilliant idea, Grava.”

The next three months were a maelstrom for Grava. They were filled and overflowing with spending time with Therese. They attended plays, the symphony, and had picnics every other week. Therese meet Grava’s father and likewise Grava met her mother and brothers. Grava spent whatever spare time with Meiden; sometimes staying up late into the night to complete paperwork for his princely duties the next day.

The brisk, cool evening was the perfect unnecessary excuse for Therese to be just a touch closer while they walked to her home after another play. Grava had finally gathered up the courage that this night, he was going to kiss this lovely woman. His Caeli already had been told to stay back a little this night.

They entered through a side gate onto the Koit property and made their way through the lush gardens to the house. Mindful of the thorns, Grava plucked a deep red rose and passed it to Therese. “A beautiful rose for you, my dear. Though it could not possibly compare with your loveliness.”

Therese blushed and shyly smiled. She accepted the rose and brought it to her nose, inhaling its fragrance. She twirled the stem between her fingers and watched the petals dance.

The prince’s eyes were on the woman before him; he was captivated by her lips, fixated upon the way they pushed to in thought as she focused on twirling the rose. Grava was hyper-aware of each time Therese breathed, each time she blinked her eyes.

Swiftly, suddenly, he pulled at her elbow. She released the rose, gently pricking her finger on a thorn as it fluttered to the ground. Grava pressed his mouth to hers, closing his eyes while Therese’s eyes widened.

Grava brought his hand up to her chin, tilting her head up and deepening the kiss. Therese closed her eyes and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. He drank her in, enjoying the bliss of their closeness and the taste of her lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He basked in the look upon Therese’s face. For a split second, he thought he saw a look of _don’t leave me_ flit across her face. She opened her eyes and they smiled at each other, he bolding and she shyly.

Grava took Therese’s hand, then bent over and plucked the rose from the ground and handed it back to her. Hand in hand, they walked to the house.


	2. Part Two

Royale – Part II

Ever since he had kissed her four months ago, Grava couldn’t get enough of Therese. He attempted to hold himself back when he was with her; he was usually successful. Grava didn’t want to rush things and possibly frighten away his lovely goddess. They only kissed in private, which made the situation easier. As few as private moments were, Grava found almost any excuse to make them.

He was addicted to Therese.

He enjoyed the way her hair cascaded over her shoulder and down her back. Her voice was like a harp played by the most skilled magician. Her eyes peered into his soul and she loved him. He craved her touch every moment, waking or sleeping.

Grava was head-over-heels in love.

“So propose to her already. The Trellyxian, Amia, proposed to his woman,” Meiden prodded.

“I’m not sure _how_.”

Meiden shrugged. “Ask her friend, that Crea woman. “I’m sure the two of them talk. _All_ women talk.”

Grava’s stubborn streak wouldn’t let him ask Chelsea for help. Besides, the other woman would somehow let it slip that Grava was thinking of proposing. That would ruin the surprise completely and he didn’t want that to happen.

The prince kicked around proposal ideas for an entire month. He did manage to ‘borrow’ a ring from her for sizing purposes. He paid a handsome bit of money, well worth it, to one of the Koit manservants to remove a ring that Therese wouldn’t miss from her jewelry box. The money was also used to keep the manservant quiet. Grava would propose, but he wasn’t sure how or when and he didn’t want Therese’s parents to know until he was good and ready to act. He had to have a ring before he actually asked Therese to marry him, anyway. He wanted both a ring and a plan before he went to Thoms Koit to ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

And then Therese asked him to holiday with her at her family’s villa out in the countryside. The small house had once upon a time been the housing unit for servants that worked the fields nearby. That had been four hundred years ago. Two hundred years ago, the Koit family had renovated and updated the building into a villa into a holiday get-away. Therese’s family hadn’t been there in many years and she found herself yearning for the quaint building and the rolling meadows full of wildflowers.

Therese wanted to share this childhood memory with Grava.

It would be just the two of them… (and a few servants and the Prince’s Caeli.)

Grava leapt at the chance, clearing away four days to spend with Therese at D’sòt. His father warned him to keep his eel in the cave. The Prince voiced that he would; he was the Crown Prince of Asturia, he would commit no action to jeopardize or tarnish his position and the Crown.

It was the best four days of Grava’s life up to this point. Oh, for sure there would be others to compare and overshadow: the day he finally proposes and Therese says yes, their wedding day (and night), and the days his sons will be born… But up to this point in his life, nothing else could compare.

The prince had been surrounded by people his entire life, almost to the point of suffocation. From the time he could talk and walk, he had been raised in the ways of the court and kingship. He had been given little free time; his schedule was nearly always filled and overflowing with etiquette lessons, princely duties, and kingly affairs. He was Grava Efud Aston, First Born, Crown Prince of Asturia.

For four days straight, he was merely a man, simply Grava. He rose whenever he wished, went to bed as he desired. He rarely saw the servants and his Caeli. Therese and Therese only filled his time. They ate every meal together, picnicking for every noon and evening meal. They went horseback riding twice – Grava had forgotten how much he had loved such exhilaration! They went swimming a handful of times too; an activity he was rarely permitted to participate in growing up.

The prince made sure to request that his Caeli remain close at those times. Women and men’s swimming clothes were full-body and covered everything, but the head, neck, hands and feet. But Grava was not going to allow room for… temptation to moor at his dock. Having an audience, however distant, would keep him in his correct shipping lane.

The holiday was refreshing, invigorating, and motivating. Grava took Therese’s ring to the jewelers, spending three hours creating a proposal ring. He went to this father to inform the king of his plans. His father arranged for court lessons for Therese. Grava met with Thoms to request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He now had a plan for proposing.

Grava set out to make Therese Koit his bride.

The Festival Month of the Divine Sea Dragon hindered Grava, but he did not allow it to deter him from his mission. For two weeks the masculine traits of the Divine Sea Dragon, Jeture, were highlighted and celebrated. For the next two weeks, the feminine characteristics, Jichia, were in the spotlight. The fifth week was spent celebrating the unity of the two sides as one. Special plays, sword matches, and feasts were held in the Divine Sea Dragon’s honor each week. The prince was very busy being a visible, prominent figurehead, as his father fell sick three days into the month.

He was sure that the month-long celebration was more an excuse for Asturians to party, become drunk, dance, and watch the Caeli matches.

Finally, he had a chance to invite Therese to holiday with him; at her family’s villa, if that suited her and her family gave permission. Thoms knew the reason behind Grava’s invitation and of course gave permission. However, Therese had several parties she wished to attend over the next four weeks; could they holiday after that? Grava hid his grumblings but complied. That would give him plenty of time to properly clear his schedule and his head.

“Or change your mind and figure out a way to break it off.”

“Shut up Meiden. You’re just annoyed that your parents are beginning to pressure you to court.”

Meiden scoffed, but Grava knew it was the truth.

At last the week of their second holiday arrived. There was just a touch of cold in the air this time; just enough that swimming was off the agenda. They spent most of their time indoors near the fireplace. They talked and read books together and ate on a blanket on the floor. Therese let Grava in on a well-kept secret that she was a bit of an artist. They sang and played the instruments they discovered on an adventurous trip to the attic one day.

The last full day of their holiday was warm and they picnicked for lunch near the swimming pond. Grava uncovered the dessert, slipped the velvety ring box on the plate, and handed it to Therese. She was watching the butterflies flit around flowers several feet away and did not notice the extra bit on her plate at first.

A few moments later… “Grava!” she gasped. Therese turned to him, surprise and delight in her eyes. “What… what is this?”

He nodded. “It is for you. Open it.” Grava smiled, eyes twinkling.

Her fingers glided over the tiny box and she opened it. A gasp again left her luscious lips.

Grava took her hands, still holding the box, in his own. He looked directly into her lovely lavender eyes, swallowed the lump in his throat, and asked, “Therese, Klarita Koit, love of my life, breath of my body, will you marry me? Become my wife, the future queen of Asturia?”

Therese hesitated for just a second – stunned – her face became flushed, but she smiled joyfully. “I would love to marry you, Grava Efud Aston, Prince of Asturia. Yes.”

Grava returned her smile, pulled the ring from the box to slip onto her finger, and kissed her passionately. The ring box was somehow lost amid their picnicking supplies.

The engagement was announced two days later and the official party was held a week after that. Their schedules became almost too full to see each other. Therese was busy with wedding preparations for Chelsea’s upcoming nuptials and princess and queen etiquette lessons. The king’s illness, while non-threatening, continued; thus forcing Grava to shoulder more and more of his father’s duties. They saw each other only once or twice a week; sometimes in private, but usually only for public outings. Every other few weeks, Therese was gone for a full week or two to Trellyx, where Chelsea’s wedding was to be held.

Two and a half months passed in this fashion, much to Grava’s chagrin. They celebrated their one year anniversary by attending Delma and Chelsea’s wedding together. The leviship trip there and back was no more than five days, but the week and a half spent in each other’s company was more refreshing than anything for Grava.

Now that Chelsea’s wedding (was no longer in the way) (was no longer a hindrance) had taken place, Grava and Therese managed to find a bit more time to spend together. Granted, now Therese’s time was spent preparing for her own wedding, time was still sparse. It was made easier for them to see each other when Therese finally moved into the palace. She requested that her family’s holiday villa be moved to the palace as well; an odd request, but of course Grava acquiesced. Therese wanted the nostalgia close by for her to escape to for future stressful times. That Grava could understand. What he didn’t understand was the beastman servant that Thoms sent with the gaggle of maidservants to the castle as part of Therese’s retinue, despite the fact that Therese informed him he was a childhood servant and friend. However, Grava rarely saw any of that group, so he paid the mole man little mind.

The prince was sure to continue to spend time with his best friend, but Meiden began to get a bit demanding an annoying during his time spent with Grava.

“Your parents have _what_?”

“They have decided on an arranged marriage,” Meiden answered with no enthusiasm.

“I thought those went out of style almost one hundred years ago,” Grava speculated.

“I thought so as well,” the merchant continued. “I think they’re entertaining the notion because they’ve discovered that I’m not putting any effort into searching for a wife.”

“So how are the proceeding with the process?”

Meiden sighed. “Well, thank Jeture they’re not simply picking one and shoving us into marriage. They’ve picked five ‘fine’ young women and I am to court them and pick one within a few months from now.”

The prince shrugged. “Could have been worse.”

With a hunch of the shoulders that was very uncharacteristic of the ever-confident Meiden, he wished, “Why can’t the leave well enough alone?”

“Because then the great and wealthy Fassa line would die out?”

“Ha. Ha.”

Grava did what (little) he could to cheer up his friend. “Look at it this way: With a wife, you’ll have off-spring to marry our children.”

The allure of possibly royal power was enough to brighten up Meiden any day, under any circumstance. It had been a joke between childhood friends ever since they were twelve. Neither was sure who had said it first. But as they neared adulthood, both knew they hoped it would become so. It remained an unspoken, rarely-spoken of topic of conversation. But both men knew they felt positive about such a happenstance; they knew that the other believed the same.

Four more months flew by before the wedding. Grava and Therese took to meeting in the secret passages within the castle and occasionally at the villa, so desperate were they for true, alone, time together. These were usually brief: a kiss, hug, and goodbye. But the king remaining sick for such a long time, the advisors were beginning to prepare the prince to assume kingship. The lovers’ scan time together dwindled.

Grava suggested they meet at their rendezvous points ‘after hours.’ This usually turned out to mean the eleventh hour. Grava took it upon himself to travel as close as possible to Therese’s chambers, or to travel to the villa while she was already there. These secret meetings lasted much longer than their previous snatched few seconds. After the first meeting, Therese smuggled a blanket into the dark, dusty secret hallways when they met there. They only met like this two or three nights a week, and never more than an hour or two. Neither wanted to be caught, nor arouse suspicion. But desired and needed the sleep for the next day.

“So Meiden; I see that you’ve managed to put off choosing a woman for an extra month or two,” Grava chuckled one day on their no longer ‘usual’ tavern outing.

Meiden raised his wine glass. “To freedom.”

He lifted his glass but the merchant spoke again before the prince could drink. “You can’t join my toast; you’re no longer a “free” man. You put a ring on her finger, the engagement part has been celebrated, and your wedding is only three – four – months away. I don’t see you panicking and attempting to break it off or run away.”

Only Grava (and possibly [probably] Lady Fassa) could ever have noticed that Meiden’s straight face was just a little bit crooked… The prince knew his friend was teasing.

“To dwindling freedom, my toast should have been,” Meiden muttered.

“Oh?” Grava raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I have chosen a woman from my parents’ offerings. And no, I am not ‘in love’ with her. But I think that someday, the future will find me content with her.”

Curious for details – and emotion from Meiden besides apathy – Grava prodded his friend for more information.

The other man shrugged nonchalantly. “She’s average, I guess; but she is a bit independent instead of clingy. She has a good head on her shoulders.”

“In other words, she won’t need you to be home all the time. You can be at your office or with other business partners for as long as you want.”

Meiden’s smile reached his eyes. “That is exactly it, my friend.”

Grava only chuckled in response to that. “So when is the wedding?”

“Our parents will make the engagement announcement in two weeks; the wedding will be a few months after your own. You and Therese will be invited, of course.”

“It’ll be a small affair, I assume.”

“You assume correctly.” The merchant again sipped from his glass. “It will be good to finally have my parents out of my life over getting married.” Both men shared a hearty laugh.

“How does she feel about the arranged marriage bit?”

“She feels the same way I do, actually. I was a bit surprised that there was a she-human on Gaea that wasn’t all a-twittery about courtship, romance, and marriage. She wasn’t hunting for a match either; her parents were almost as worried about her unmarried state as mine were. Though of course, poor creature, she had it worse, being female. She is in the same ship I am over the situation: she doesn’t believe she needs to be married, so why not marry a man who won’t force her to be a dutiful wife?”

“But what is the woman’s _name_?”

“Ragíon. Ragíon Iare.”

Grava told Therese about Meiden’s engagement later that evening during their rendezvous. “Serves the conniving merchant right,” was her response. They both laughed. The prince held his fiancé close, fingers trailing along the bare skin of her forearm. Grava longed for their wedding night.

The prince managed to keep his hands from wandering too far over the course of the next two months. He reminded himself he was Asturia’s Prince, the future (soon-to-be) King. He would not ruin his country’s reputation nor his family’s honor.

However, the extra wine consumed at a dinner party in honor of another country’s royal hacked away at Grava’s already-wavering resolve. The dignitary was known for enjoying his drink overly much. By the time Grava finally took his leave from the dining room at a quarter past the eleventh hour, he had drank at least twice his usual amount of wine. His Caeli assisted him back to his chambers and made sure that the prince tumbled safely into bed before exiting the room.

Grava made a fair bit of noise leaving his room via the secret passage way to meet Therese at the villa that night, though he didn’t realize it. Therese had attended the same party, though she was only just barely over her usual wine consumption. Their sitting on the couch they had sat in right after his proposal slowly grew far more intimate.

What enthralled Grava the most was that Therese was _willing_ …

They did slightly regret it in the morning, of course. It was awkward when they met for breakfast, or any chance meeting in a hallway. They tried to act normal, but Grava could feel that his happiness at even catching a glimpse of her was tinged with guilt. Therese, too, did not hold her gaze with his as long as usual during these times.

The stopped meeting in secret and only saw each other at meals or for wedding preparations. Slowly, as the weeks passed and the wedding drew closer, the guilt eased away. They were engaged, soon to be wed; how could it have been so wrong? One morning at breakfast while they had a rare public moment alone, the prince begged his fiancé for forgiveness. Therese forgave him and asked for forgiveness as well; Grava of course gave it. The last two weeks before their wedding held much less tension after that for the lovers.

Their wedding came and went. They were both nervous during the ceremony, fearful that Jeture would reveal their blemish to the gathered Country, and would never be able to recall any of it even if they tried. Their wedding night held less flare than it should have, though Grava suspected that they both blushed at the fair share of ‘jokes’ at the reception.

The evidence of their premarital union reared its head only to the most observant two months after their marriage. “I am pregnant.” Three fateful words. “That fast?” ( _‘After the wedding?’_ ) “No… My… visits… are now three months late.” The prince swore. They kept it to themselves for the next month, scared, but Therese began to show.

The king called them into his private audience chamber not three days later. Three treacherous, tortured days later. His illness had progressed to the point he was usually bed-ridden; the doctors knew he didn’t have much longer in this world. He waited a few minutes after the doors closed behind the page. “Explain yourselves.” He included his new daughter-in-law in his gaze, but his focus was on the Prince, Asturia’s future, all too soon, King.

Grava shamefully bowed his head.

If he had been healthy, the king would have gone into a rage. As it was, only his voice and eyes could convey his anger. Steely, he spoke. Grava felt as if a Caeli’s sword was being drawn to seal his doom. “Couldn’t keep your eel in its own cave, could you boy? The princess is to be kept away from prying eyes. She is _ill_. The pregnancy will be terminated – ”

“No,” Grava tried to match his father’s steel. Therese spoke the same word, though with the weight of Motherhood and feminine tenderness behind it.

The king raised his head defiantly, looking down his nose at the two of them despite their standing over his bed. “If that be your stance… The pregnancy will be allowed to come to term, the result sent away. You – ”

“No!” Therese shrieked this time, bursting into tears. Grava pulled her into his arms and tried to argue with the king, though his heart already knew the outcome. Exile was better than death.

“Silence!” rasped out. Therese fled; Grava bore the king’s wrath for both of them. “I am the King. You have sullied Asturia and Her royal Aston Honor. So you have sinned, so you will be punished.”

Grava attempted to mimic his father’s haughty expression, as if a child pretending to wear his father’s boots. “Send the child to her friend in Trellyx.”

“If that is how you could possibly plan to hide it, so be it.”

What should been a joyous, public occasion for father, grandfather, and country, was destroyed and turned over on its head. Grava grew to resent the king, the man he had called Father for the entirety of his life. The pregnancy was hidden from the world and became a wedge between Son and Father, Prince and King. Only four months later, the king slipped into long bouts of unconsciousness. Each day for the remainder of the pregnancy, Grava begged for the king’s death. His pleadings went unanswered. He rarely visited the king, only doing so to keep up the charade when the doctors insisted and even then only briefly.

Asturia wondered about the lovely bride princess that became reclusive and hidden from their curious eyes. She had just married into the royal family, and what a vision she was! The people adored her and now she was gone! _Poor sick princess, become well soon so that you may be worshiped by your people!_

Therese spent most of her time hidden way inside her villa. The building became a trap as well as a refuge for her. It kept her close to her family; who weren’t allowed to see her due to her ‘illness.’ Yet the sitting room was the dirtiest place she could think of and offered to respite. Nor did the visits from her new husband help. Everything became a nuisance, a rub into the wound they had created for themselves.

The birth came and went. Grava wasn’t even informed of its happening until a few hours after its completion. He must have angered Jeture somehow; the king so happened to be conscious only for a few moments at the begging. His orders were that Grava be kept in the depths and Therese to never hold her child, nor know the sex or even the result of the birth. The child was immediately sent away. Somehow, the king had the smallest kindness in his stone heart to fulfill Grava’s request on Therese’s behalf. He wasn’t sure how his father had the heart to remember, let alone fulfill, the request.

A month later, a simple note reached Therese that the child was a healthy girl. Therese’s only response back was to name her Esesra Klarita. ‘Esesra’ was an elderly, grandmotherly friend that both young women had known and lost in their early childhood. And it was traditional that the middle name be from a close friend. To the casual observer it was a typical, normal name.

Two weeks after that, the king’s unconscious episodes lengthened and he rarely reached the plane of the living. Seven months after the pregnancy, the king slipped into a coma and could not be roused despite the fact that the doctors tried every trick they could find in the known regions of Gaea. A year and a half after the birth of the illegitimate child, the king passed from this world into the next.

 

Grava Efud Aston became king of Asturia.

 

King of the most powerful country of Gaea.

 

 

Powerless to unite his family.


End file.
